


Overnight

by LadyScale



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Complete, Gen, Inspired by a Movie, New York City, Parkour, Police, Rating: PG13, Running, Sleep, Sleepiness, Superpowers, Watchmen Kink Meme, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-06
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyScale/pseuds/LadyScale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The members of the Watchmen group gain super-powers during the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Watchmen and I don't make an money writing this fic.

A fill made for a prompt at the Watchmen Kink Meme here: [spam-monster.livejournal.com/2617.html](http://spam-monster.livejournal.com/2617.html?thread=5743673#t5743673) 

 

Rorschach knew something was amiss as soon as he felt the third bout of nausea creep over him that cold night. Walls peppered with various graffiti and old posters passed by unnoticed as he tried to ignore the slight pulsing in his temples. That particular district of town he was pacing through wasn’t as populated as he expected to be, but the idea of passing out on the street and ending up exposed to danger wasn’t his flavor of Beemans Chewing Gum, so he turned a corner and retreated into the relatively dark alleyway.

Just in time as well, because just then another bout seized and shook through him. His head pounded and seemed to spread to his ears and the area around the back of his jaw, making him clutch the sides of his face in discomfort, swirling and dizzy. No. Not pain. Discomfort. Rorschach can’t be conquered.

Leaning against a dirty wall which proclaimed “Jab” with neon pink graffiti letters, Rorschach breathed heavily, trying to will the sensation away, deftly pulling at his scarf wider in hopes it would ease the bout down.

Puffs of condensation wafting through the latex fabric mask, and surely enough the onslaught passed as suddenly as it came, leaving him with wobbly legs. Hmm… Wobbly is an attribute that is distinctly not efficient in crime-fighting. Reluctantly he decided to call it a night. The prospect of losing consciousness looming over his head was not very productive.

But was he going to be able to reach his apartment? After a moment’s consideration, he decided that the route to Nite Owl’s townhouse was shorter.

The trek was thankfully unperturbed as he opened the door from the Owl’s Nest, not feeling up to the task of breaking through the front door tonight. The pounding in his head diminished what little appetite he had left so the pantry lay unpilfered as well.

At the end of his strength he managed to collapse on the living room couch and deftly kicked off his ratty shoes, unknowingly revealing a pair of the most ungodliest socks ever – all patchy and reeking of a concoction of must and mold. Rorschach settled in for a nap, hoping that could help with his exhaustion.

His temples pulsed as if some leeches which have latched on his skull decided their progression was unsatisfactory and felt it right to puncture through the skin and attempt to squeeze into the vein, three at a time. Ears pounded as if swelling. An average joe would have already taken a pain pill, but not Rorschach. He was above the government’s fishing nets of dioxin abuse. Nothing a nap won’t cure. That was all he needed. 

***

Slowly the cloak of slumber eased off and he came back to the land of the roused. Groggily stretching out on the couch, careful not to bring on a leg cramp, he felt no nausea and the headache was no longer present, so he tentatively got to his feet.

He checked the clock situated on the end table next to the couch, and in the dim light he could faintly make out the hour hand pointed at 3, meaning he slept through most all of his shift and he would need to be at his day job soon. Hurm. Scum were lucky tonight. Won’t be next time. 

Putting back his shoes on, he idly wondered about Dreiberg, who couldn’t join in patrolling that night. Said he complained about aching. 

Wait. Could he have somehow been exposed to whatever had plagued him and been affected as well?

Analyzing his prior symptoms, he already checked off food poisoning in his mental list, so was lead and mercury, even floruride etcetera, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility of something in the water or the air. Inwardly he dreaded if anyone else through the city felt the effects of last night as well, confirming his thought of a government plot, as he climbed the stairs intending to check on Nite Owl.

***

Nite Owl was pulled from his sleep to the sound of shouting, and in the half-awaked state he listened, recognizing it as the voice of Mrs. Thaddeus from next door. Something about her spouse not paying the bill on time it seems. Intending to go back to sleep, his focus unconsciously drifted towards the other sounds, of the chirping birds, of the faint truck horn suddenly sounding from somewhere down the street and the general hum of the cars in traffic, to the hiss and gurgle of water in the pipes.

It took him a full 5 minutes to realize that he lived in a townhouse and not an apartment where one could hear the neighbors arguing, 5 minutes to realize his house had thick walls which dampened the city noises, and furthermore… the pipes? Wait a minute.

Blearily opening his eyes, daylight glinted off of the glasses on the nightstand and shifting slightly he looked out the window. Had he slept in somehow? He decided not to find out and just lay there a few more minutes.

And by all he knew, an hour could have passed before he heard something shuffle. He raised his head and tried to pin-point it. There it went again – from the livingroom. He listened onward, slowly feeling a chill crawl up his spine. A pair of shoes hitting the ground, and something that sounded like leather – oh, his couch. Only his couch could make that kind of squeak. 

Tap tap tap went the pair of shoes on the parquet below. Someone was in the house.

Slowly his knees recoiled while he clutched the blanket around his middle, his mouth running dry. At the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, he was just about to spring out of bed and make a run for the tennis racket, but the faint string of muttering of ‘govermentployliberalpoliticaldegenerates…’ made him stop.

Aaaah. He let out a sigh of relief as he settled back, laying his head on the pillow again. That’s just Rorschach.

The door opened gingerly. “Hi, Rorschach.”

The man in the inkblot mask seemed to jump at that. Why did he jump? And what was he doing there at that time of day? “Hmm… Hello, Daniel. Thought I’d check on you. Hope you don’t mind.” “Naw. It’s quite alright.” Dan said, and he watched as his partner reached for the light switch. Why was he – Gah! Too bright!

“Rorschach! Turn off that light!”

There was a moment of hesitation before he heard the click of the switch again and he removed his hands from his eyes, looking around. Strange, his sleepy eyes must have been taken by surprise. Though the question that remained was why did Rorchach turn on the light in broad daylight, and HOW did the room suddenly become brighter? And why was Rorschach here in the first place?

“Aheh. Rorschach, I knew you as the kind of guy to come without any prior notice, but usually it was at night. Any reason for the day visit? And it’s… what, 6 or 7 o’clock?”

The man in the fedora just stood there, just looking at him as if… what? As if he was some lunatic?

“It is 3 in the morning, Daniel.”

…What?? 

“What are you talking about?” 

“It’s still night time.” 

Dan got out of bed and checked the window illuminating the room and his jaw nearly dropped. The streets, the buildings… they were illuminated as if by daylight, yet the sky was dark as charcoal. The whole panorama reminded him of what a photo would look if it was taken with the flash option during the night. One big flash at that.

Dan’s mind reeled and suddenly he felt a hand clasp his shoulder, turning him towards Rorschach, who promptly grabbed his chin, and his heart leaped into his throat. He was angling Dan’s head in the light coming from the streetlamps outside, observing him with that penetrating unseen gaze.

“Your eyes.” He simply stated.

“What? What about my eyes?” He quickly ran into the bathroom, going around the house without his glasses, he suddenly realized, and looked in the mirror… to find large black pupils and striking orange irises that completely obscured the white of his eyes staring back at him.

“… oh my god.”  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Nite Owl would not come to patrol for several days, most likely due to the shock. But as he gradually grew more accustomed to this new u-bend in his life, he liked being able to see in the dark, and his hearing and eyesight have become dramatically more acute, up to the point where he said to me that could read the fine print off a newspaper from several blocks away. Or hear a bird preening itself from a fair distance off. Hrmm. As if I needed another detail to confirm Dan’s bird watching routine.

What was more peculiar was that in the meantime it’s been discovered that the other Watchmen have endured the same symptoms that same night. No one else in the entire city reported anything. I, back in my simple apartment, with its crusty walls, faded paint and spartan surroundings, mused upon this.

Miss Jupiter for instance woke up that day, quite literally, one with the wall. The Silk Specter had become a shadow without a body overnight. And if the solid 2 hours of running and screaming on the walls throughout her shared apartment complex was of any indication, she didn’t take it too well, obviously.

“Goddammit, Jon! Do something! You can’t leave me like this!”

Dr. Manhattan merely took it in stride, of course. “You’re alright, Laurie. There’s no reason for me to interfere if there is nothing wrong with you.”

“Nothing wrong?? My body is frikkin’ gone!” “None of your particles are missing, the perception of yourself is merely altered.” “Oh, just peachy! What do you suppose I should do now, hmmm?” “You could calm down, for a start.” She spent that entire morning trying to do just that, until she finally managed to will herself back to her corporal form.

Ozymandias could now analyze objects to their most minute details and with that data in his mind, predict their history or their outcome. For example, if he inspected the schematics for a new car, he could accurately predict the results of the crash tests. Or as he put it at the most recent meeting, be able to effectively ‘scan’ the stock market with all its variables and calculate the best opportunities, or how the market would modify if a new variable is introduced. Or simply glance at a person’s face, posture, and body language, down to the last wrinkle, and tell if that person is guilty of crime of not. That realization made me conscious of myself throughout the rest of the meeting.

The Comedian didn’t know what kind of power he achieved – just until he went to the Rochester Brooks Gun Club’s shooting range. He discovered that whatever firearm he held significantly increased its firepower, and after hours of exploring the boundaries of his new-found ability, could now make a bullet ricochet off various objects before finally hitting a target, or if he focused hard enough, make a projectile turn around a target to hit the one behind it. Or ‘curve the bullet’ as he put it.

Dr. Manhattan for once was at a loss for words, unable to find an explanation for the sudden anomaly, or perhaps didn’t want to. It was very probable that he may have been the cause of this (tip the balance into our favor, maybe?) but it wasn’t in his nature to step in on the workings of the cosmos. Still, the thought of the invincible man having a sudden change of heart (if there was any anymore) and decide to toy with time and space bit by bit was a grim thought. But for now, to Doctor Manhattan, it simply came, and that was all that mattered to him.

Time for a recap then. Dr. Manhattan remained unchanged, very likely the source of event. Nite Owl’s auditory and ocular senses have increased to compete with that of the owls’ which he loves so much. Silk Specter can now become a shadow at will, or could, with some practice. The Comedian now possessed ‘Combat Magic’ as he so eloquently named it. Ozymandias’s mind is now like a supercomputer. Hurm. As if he couldn’t boast enough that he could multiply two big numbers in his head.

Which only left Rorschach. My power still remained unearthed for now. I looked down at my bare hands, with their hardened dry skin, covered with old scars and some fresh scabs, testaments of numerous encounters. I didn’t feel any different… still I can’t help but wonder what it was going to be.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rochester Brooks Gun Club is actually a real place. And in New York, no less!


	3. Chapter 3

Rorschach had almost given up hope on the possibility that he may have changed that night… until the day he found himself surrounded by the police, facing the blaring noise of the sirens.

Making a beeline through the alleyways, bricked walls passing by him like a blur, he knocked down a door which led him into a boiler room full of piping. The split second after seeing the flight of stairs, he noticed the length of pipe. Running towards it, he jumped and swung upwards over the balustrade to land at the top of the stairs, using the momentum to ram the door open. Over Rorschach’s frantic breathing, he could hear shouting and bullets whizzing past him as he ran up the stairway of the building. His heart began to race faster…

Thum-thumpThum-thumpThum-thumpThum-thump

He spotted a door with a rectangular piece of glass in place of its top part, and above that a steel beam. He took his chance and ran to jump and grab the beam, using his body weight to swing and burst through the glass.

Thum-thump. Thum-thump. Thum-thump. Thum-thump.

Landing in a crouch, he realized me was outside on a balcony, and frantically looking around, he saw a length of steel pipe lining the crimson-brown and grey patched wall, leading to a white painted ladder at the other end. Behind him rang the sounds of guns and shouting. Without a second thought he raced over the pipe that was less wide than his own shoes! 

Thum-thump… Thum-thump… Thum-thump…

There was no time to think anymore! All that was going through his mind was ‘Run! Run! Get away!’ He made it just in time to the ladder and behind him, the steel bent and gave way, followed by a big hiss of steam as it hurled to the ground! 

Thum-thump…

Back at the balcony, the door was thrown off its hinges and the men in blue uniform surrounded the balustrade. Not even bothering to use the steps, Rorschach slid down the ladder, leather gloves protesting under the friction, accompanied by the noise of firearms barely missing him. He jumped off the ladder from several meters above the ground and he dived into a roll before sprinting back to his feet and darting through the grimy alley, the shriek of police sirens almost deafening his ears. Heart beat so fast from adrenaline he thought it might burst out of his chest. His mind speeding so much, the world around him went by at a snail’s pace.

Thum… thump… Thum… thump…

He made it out of the alley into the street, random pedestrians watching curiously, but then from the next bend, two white and blue police cars greeted him, wheels ominously scraping the ground, red lights ablaze! He raced and dodged down the road, lurching projectiles smashing into the poster and graffiti-ridden wall behind him, his breath whizzing through his gullet, and there! Down the sidewalk! Leaping over the manhole and landing in a roll, he grabbed its respective cover! 

Thum…

The long-stringed hollers of people running away ringed in his ears. Darting past, Rorschach raised the iron slab on the encroaching bullets. Agonizingly slow blasts sounded as the shots ricochet off the slab. Seconds crawled like minutes, and at the first slack in the gunshots he threw the cover back at them!

thump...

Grabbing the streetlight beam he swiveled his body around into the next alleyway in a brisk 90 degree turn, and in that same instant, the manhole cover glided through the air like a frisbee and slammed into the bonnet of the first vehicle, slicing through and making it halt with a drawn-out but ear-piercing screech! The second vehicle swiveled around and rammed into the prior one!

Thum…

Rorschach huffed as he turned the corner, grateful to have evade- Oh no! Dead end! Before him were walls several stories high with the ground caked by mounds of trash. His head turned around to the sounds of shouting. Cornered. He looked again into the back alley. Blazing past over the accumulations he darted at a blistering pace towards the wall, the police right behind him! Using the momentum he literally stepped up the wall. One. Two. Three. Four steps before leaping off and summersaulting in the air and landing behind them!

thump…

The first policeman oozed towards him, unsheathing his gun, but Rorschach’s fist flew and knocked the weapon out of the man’s hand before grabbing his arm and whipped around, throwing him into the other officers and into the mounds of trash.

Thum…

Not wanting to find out if they’ve been knocked out cold or not, he ran out of the alley and back where he knew the cars were strewn. He raced forward and leaped up, letting out a raging holler, while all the while a few other remaining cops spotted him, but just watched as if he were some kind of apparition. 

thump…

Seconds stretched on like eons as he skipped off the top of the car, the wide-eyed gazes of the dumb-struck men tardily followed, as if working with late reaction time. Running towards the alley at the other end, this one with a brick wall that wasn’t as high as the last one, he aimed for the corner, leaped up and hopped off the wall towards the one at a 90 degree angle next to it, and used that same momentum to hop back higher and repeated until he was at the top where he grabbed the edge and hauled himself over. 

He landed in a roll and kept on running.

Thum… thump… Thum… thump…

Through alleyways, and only after a long and winding, twisting line through and around the buildings did he start to slow down.

Thum-thump… Thum-thump. Thum-thump. Thum-thumpThum-thumpThum-thump…

Breathing hoarsely, feeling his gullet strung with globs of mucus trying to ease his dried-up and exhausted trachea, he eased down to a brisk walk, his aching muscles protesting as if only now they decided to make their existence known. And they burned, oh how they burned! Getting his breathing under control, only pausing to gulp every now and then, he leaned his back against the wall, sliding to settle down and letting pressure off his abused legs.

Upon summarizing the event that just passed in his head, it was only then that it occurred to him that he actually managed to somehow tightrope a thin long pipe, that the sheer wall that he climbed on was several feet high, that he lifted an IRON manhole cover with barely any effort at all, and dodged blistering-fast bullets! How time seemed to just slow down…

In short, he did things which no person, even him, would have been able to do. Things he could only dream of doing during the Charlton Home years in the gymnastics area at school…

It seems he finally discovered his super-power.

“Psst.”

Rorschach jumped up with a yelp, looking around frantica- oh. Lo and behold, the orange-eyed owl perched on a fire escape. So he finally decided to show up. He had his limbs clutched on the balustrade on either side of his chin, and he raised one hand to wave back at him in an almost comical fashion.

“Hurmm… Hi.” Rorschach simply said.

“That… That was amazing! How did you do that??” Nite Owl inquired while Rorschach randomly decided to see if he could jump up to the ladder. Easily enough, he grabbed the end of it and swinged up to land and turn around, going to stand next to the cloaked figure.

Decided to show, and apparently perceptive of the goings on… “Found my power. Thought it was obvious…” And after a moment of thought “Seems it didn’t occur to you to lend some help.”

“I was about 500 yards away.”

Ah. Forgot.

They looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment.

“Swim goggles?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Heh. Didn’t see the point of bringing my night-vision goggles since I can see in the dark now. Will have to redesign them one of these days. The tricky part is actually having to wear sunglasses during the day, I’m afraid. Guess I’ll have to get myself a stick and pose as a blind person from now on, you know, as a cover-up. And then I’ve got to find sunglasses that actually kind of wrap around… It’s not as if I can’t open my eyes in the daylight, of course, but it hurts my eyes after a while. But I think I’ll get used to the sunglasses part – I think it gives a certain… ‘funk’ to my image, don’t you agree?”

And so on they went, up the steps of fire escape, Rorschach being silent, but listening to the calming thrum of Nite Owl’s ramblings.

  
**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: At first I didn't know what power to give Rorschach, but I found my inspiration HERE: [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_GpOroM0g80&feature=related](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_GpOroM0g80&feature=related) If you're curious to see how his power looks like, watch it. ~~After all, some of the moves are from there~~ ;D

**Author's Note:**

> You'll get a cookie if you get significance of the Beemans Chewing Gum reference. ;D


End file.
